Date With Wes Janson
by Asyr Sei'lar
Summary: A humorous date with Rogue Squadron hottie Wes Janson!


FanFiction.Net

  
Note: All characters, technology, etc., is the property of George Lucas and Lucasfilm, with exception of the characters Jenna Sinclair/Shadow, and Jayden Larris, which belong to me, Wraith Squadron characters (Aaron Allston). No money is being made off this story, I just wrote it for fun. Enjoy the story, the ending is pretty funny!!!! Jenna's character is loosely based on Lara Notsil of Wraith Squadron, and her 'relationship' with Myn Donos. Scenes are taken from 'Iron Fist.' 

Historical note: This story takes place during the X-wing book 'Iron Fist.' 

Author: Asyr Sei'lar (my alias) 

Synopsis: This is just a short story about what it would be like to date pilots from Rogue Squadron. A silly story, but the ending's kinda funny. I plan to have sort of a series of these types of stories, including maybe a date with commando Lieutenant Page. 

Date With Wes Janson 

The globe of light shifted color as it bounced up into the air. It finished its arc, but a sudden swipe of one player's staff sent it careening back into the air. A sudden tone sounded, indicating the game was finished. Both players took off their helmets, revealing sweaty faces underneath. 

Jenna grinned as she shook her hair out. "Nice game," she commented. 

"You're not too bad yourself," said her opponent and NRI partner, Jayden Larris. "You play a hard game of shockball." 

"So," she asked as they exited the shockball court, "do you know if General Cracken has given us a new assignment?" 

Jayden's smile faded. "He's given you one," he said quietly. 

Jenna stopped and turned to stare at him. "What do you mean, he's given me one?" she demanded. 

"I mean," he told her calmly, "that's he assigned you to analyze Zsinj data with Wraith Squadron to figure out what his next major move is going to be. Cracken thinks you're the best person to liaise with them from Intelligence." 

Jenna stared at him, aghast. "But . . ." she sputtered, "they're pilots, not intelligence analysts." 

"They did discover the edge of Zsinj's financial empire," he reminded her, "which not even all of the Intelligence section devoted to him was able to find. Besides, they do have Wedge Antilles as their leader. He has a pretty sharp mind." 

"Still . . ." She hesitated. "To be relegated to such a mundane assignment, especially with all the missions we've pulled off . . ." She looked up at him. "What about you? Any new assignments?" 

He shook his head. "Just the same old routine. Analysis of Zsinj data." 

With a small smile, she asked, "Want to trade?" 

He laughed. "No thanks." 

* * * 

Jenna skulked at the back of the hangar, knowing full well how conspicuous she looked in her blue-and-tan NRI uniform. She glanced at the center, where the Wraiths were assembling for a meeting with their commander. Jenna glanced at the new Wraith pilots who were joining the squadron. There was blond, messy-haired man, a dark-skinned woman with a bead braided into her hair, and a Twi'lek woman with surprisingly attractive features. 

"Lots of news today." Jenna's attention turned to Wes Janson, the squadron's second-in-command. "Most of it good, some bad." "Bad news: I'm back. Bad for me, because I was enjoying my rest, and bad for you, because if some of you had been a little quicker, I wouldn't have been shot. Keep it in mind as I make up assignments over the next few weeks." Jenna couldn't help herself; she laughed. The sound, though, was covered by the collective groans erupting from the Wraiths. Hmm, maybe this assignment isn't going to be too bad after all... 

"Runt, also, is fit for duty, which is probably both good and bad, because some of his personalities enjoy working and some don't." Personalities? Plural? She frowned. Must be that Thaakwash pilot I heard about. "We have new pilots to fill our rosters. I present to you Flight Officer Castin Donn, our new computer specialist. Castin is a native of Coruscant, so the next time we decide to walk into a trap here, we'll take him along to make sure it's a better grade of trap." The blond-haired man nodded cheerfully. 

"Flight Officer Dia Passik is a native of Ryloth. She has experience with a broad variety of New Republic and Imperial vehicles, especially larger space vessels, and knows quite a bit about criminal organization—she's a new resource for us where things like smuggling and mercenary operations are concerned." The Twi'lek watched everyone warily, as if trying to decide their threat level. 

"Our third pilot is Flight Officer Shalla Nelprin—" 

"Oh, no," Kell Tainer said. He banged his head against the fuselage of an X-wing. 

Jenna smiled as Wes Janson asked, "You have something to say, Lieutenant Tainer?" K

ell stopped hammering the snubfighter for a moment. "You're related to Vula Nelprin?" 

Shalla's smile broadened. "She's my older sister." 

"And your father trained you, too?" 

"Yes . . . though I think I'm a little better than Vula." 

Kell sighed. "I think I've told you all about my hand-to-hand instructor in the commandos, the one who could throw me around as though I were a dust rag without even letting me see her sweat— this is her sister." Jenna fought to keep her laughter down. That's it—I really like this squadron . . . 

Janson said, "This should come as no surprise to you then: Nelprin is going to be our new instructor in unarmed combat. You make her the best pilot she can be, and she gets to reward you by beating the life out of you. But she's also well versed in Imperial Intelligence doctrine and tactics, which is helpful to us, since Zsinj seems to be fond of employing Intelligence personnel. Wedge?" Jenna looked at Shalla. Intelligence, huh? In that case, this should my job a lot easier . . . 

Wedge said, "Make the new pilots welcome, Wraiths. We're going to put them, and you, immediately to work on a new mission. I've just transmitted to your datapads the details of our assignment . . . one which, unfortunately, won't take us off Coruscant yet." He waved down the chorus of groans that resulted. "Sorry. But our results on this task may determine where we're assigned next, so pay attention. 

"Our efforts in tracking Admiral Trigit and insinuating ourselves into his confidence have gone over very well with High Command. We've demonstrated that we have both skill and luck on our side. But now we have to prove it beyond doubt. 

"We're going to divide ourselves into three groups. Each group is to ask the following questions: What is Zsinj up to? What are his specific plans and strategies? Once you've arrived at a set of theories, we'll put them to the test: We'll go out into the field and look for evidence to corroborate the best of the theories. 

"I'm choosing three of you to head these groups based on your ability with tactical thinking and skill in getting into your enemies' heads. Runt, you're Zsinj-One, Piggy, Zsinj-Two, Face, Zsinj-Three." 

Wedge nodded at the far end of the hangar where Jenna was. "For the purposes of this assignment, Jenna Sinclair, from New Republic Intelligence, has been assigned to us. If you have any questions regarding information on Zsinj, Jenna's the one to ask, Wraiths. She knows more about Zsinj than anyone here." Jenna nodded at the Wraiths as she approached them." Wes Janson found himself studying her closely. He shook his head and looked away. What's wrong with you, Janson? 

Jenna glanced sharply around at the Wraiths. "Nice to meet you," she said casually, but there was no friendliness in her voice. On the contrary; it was all business. 

The groups began forming. Runt chose Kell, Tyria Sarkin, and Shalla. Face took Ton Phanan, Wes Janson, Dia, and a fourth team member, Jenna. Piggy picked up Myn Donos, Squeaky, the unit's 3PO quartermaster, and Castin. The groups separated, picking meeting places and times. "The lounge," Face told them. "In two hours." 

"Understood," Jenna said curtly, answering for them all. 

* * * 

Jenna returned her quarters, feeling more tired than she had before. She had about an hour and a half before she had to report to the lounge. She changed into a more comfortable jumpsuit, then tossed her uniform onto her bed. 

She sighed as she slipped into the chair facing her desk. She activated the comm unit on her desk, slipping a disk into it as it warmed up and asked for her password. She told it, at the same time telling it to access the disk. 

The disk had been given to her three months previously, by Warlord Zsinj, before she entered New Republic employ. It contained instructions for Zsinj's private, coded frequency. Almost immediately, the corpulent warlord's face flickered onto her screen. "Shadow," he greeted, as if they were old friends, "anything new to report?"

"I've been given a new assignment," she told him. "I'm to liaise with Wraith Squadron as they try to analyze data on you and predict your next actions. This would be a good opportunity to see exactly what information they have brought back with them. I don't exactly have clearance or access to their reports." 

Zsinj's eyebrows rose in respect. "Good work, Shadow. You will be rewarded for this." 

"Whatever," she growled. "Shadow out." She sighed as she looked out her window at the crazy traffic. "Shadow," she snorted. "What a name to choose." She reflected as her old days in Imperial Intelligence under Ysanne Isard. How much more efficient II had been, how much more highly placed and secretive she had been, yet how much more cutthroat the place had been than NRI. Shadow had been her code name, a name she'd personally chosen. She answered only to Vader, having been, in ways, even higher in rank than Isard. Then Vader had been killed, having turned to the light side, a decision she approved of. She continued playing the role of an unknown double agent, feeding information to the Rebellion, as she continued her 'information-gathering' duties for the Empire. 

The Empire is bad, she reminded herself. Like Zsinj. I made my decision long ago. I may have been trained as a Sith, but Vader couldn't erase all the values my parents instilled in me. Besides, all he taught me were basic Jedi skills, enough to ensure maximum efficiency in my intelligence activities. The New Republic had provided her with the first sense of belonging since her biological family. She was seriously considering staying, but didn't what the exact repercussions would be, if Zsinj would come after her. 

She glanced at her chrono. "Yikes!" she yelled, jumping out of her chair and running into the corridor. "I'm late!" 

** * 

The false canopy of the X-wing simulator hissed open. Jenna jumped out and landed in a crouch. She straightened up and bounded over to the bar in the corner. She ordered a Corellian iced caf and brought it over to one of the sofas scattered around the room, lending half an ear to the chatter that was flowing freely among the group. 

Wes Janson, lying on one of the adjacent couches with a tumbler of Churban brandy at his head, smiled. "Nice run, Jenna." 

"Which?" she asked. "The flight? Or my dash over to the bar?" 

"Both," he answered, laughing. He frowned in mock-fury. "You steal all my best lines," he complained. 

She cocked her head. "Isn't that my job?" she asked. He laughed again. She smiled in return, feeling relaxed for the first time in years. She took a sip of her drink. 

"You seem to be a fairly able pilot, at least in the simulator. Maybe you should apply for Wraith Squadron. If only to get where most of the action is these days?" 

She smiled mockingly. "I don't know if I want my reputation muddied by being associated with a screw-up squadron," she answered. Her smile grew. "Or with the bunch of pilots who aren't screw-ups but are still lunatics." 

"Are you calling me a lunatic?" he demanded, with a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"I never said anything about you specifically, did I?" She rose and brought her glass back to the bar. The bartender sighed and took the glass away. She stopped in front of the couch where Janson lay. "Gotta go," she said casually. "I have a meeting with General Cracken. Just to report whatever we've come up with already." She sighed sadly. "Sometimes seems as if this war's never going to end." 

Wes rose and hugged her in a brief but consoling embrace. He held her by the shoulders. "Hey, someday it'll all be over, and you'll be craving the excitement of the past." 

Her smile was brief and weary, but genuine, quickly replaced by one that seemed too bright. "Thanks for the encouragement," she said wryly. "You really know how to make a girl feel better." She gave him a short kiss on the forehead. "Thanks for everything," she said, then slipped away from him. 

Just at that moment, Hobbie Klivan of Rogue Squadron and Wedge Antilles came in. "No fair," Hobbie complained. "Why is it all the beautiful women are attracted to you and Wedge, but not me?" 

"Maybe it has something with our roguish charm," Janson said impishly. 

Later on in the day, writing her latest report, when the door chime rang. Startled, she rose too fast, banging her knee against the desk. "Sithspit," she swore. "Come," she called at last. 

The door opened to reveal Wes Janson. He was grinning. "I could hear you swearing through the doors," he commented. 

She grimaced in pain. "I banged my knee on the desk," she explained. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I assume you came here for a reason." 

His grin faltered. "Um, yeah," he stuttered nervously. He looked away from her. 

Jenna narrowed her eyes. This isn't like Janson. What's going on? "Okay, Janson, out with it." 

A hint of the old Janson sparkled mischievously in his eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked innocently. He put on a hurt expression. "Nothing's going on." 

"Yeah, right," she muttered, "and vornskyrs are tame. Come on, Janson, what are you up to?" 

Still with that endearing hurt expression on his face, Janson looked at her. "This from the woman who kissed me?" 

"It was brief," she reminded him. "And more friendly than romantic." She shivered, so slight that it went unnoticed by Janson_. Endearing? That _endearing_ hurt look? Be careful, you're treading into dangerous territory. Can't get close to him; might break your cover. What are you going to do then?_ "So," she said impatiently, "are you going to tell me what you came here for or not?" 

His face softened. "I wanted to know if you'd like to come to this new restaurant with me that just opened up? Of course," he added hastily, "I completely understand if you refuse." 

To her complete surprise, she said, "Sure, I'd love to come." His face split into a huge smile. Jenna felt herself blush. She knew, in a way, she had taken a step toward staying with the Rebels. _Who cares if they find out? I'm staying._ She quickly became brusque to hide the blush. "When and where?" she demanded. 

"Tomorrow, if you don't mind," he said, glancing up at her. "I'll pick you up at 1900 hours and fly you over." 

"Tomorrow's fine," she said. She smiled. "That all?" 

"Yes," he answered dreamily. She noted in amusement that his mind seemed to be in hyperspace when he drifted out the door. 

She's coming, she's actually coming! he thought happily. He walked back towards his quarters, barely noticing the greetings people gave him in the corridor. The sight of Wedge Antilles waiting for him by his quarters finally brought him back to Coruscant. 

"So?" Wedge asked casually. 

"She's coming," he answered briskly, hoping to hide his blushing, which seemed to happen whenever he thought of Jenna. 

"Good." Wedge smiled. "So if anything goes wrong, and she finds out, we can blame this little joke on you." 

"Right," Janson said absentmindedly. 

He didn't catch the strange look Wedge gave him. "You're in love with her, aren't you?" The sound of Wedge's voice startled Janson out of his reverie. "Come on, are you?" 

"Yeah, I guess I am," he said. He smiled bitterly. "She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, the first one I've really been 'attracted' to." 

"True enough." Wedge glanced at his second-in-command. "So why are you so bitter?" 

"Because she never fully relaxes with anyone. Not even me." Clearly, the thought rankled him. 

"Resistant to your jokes, is she," Wedge jested. 

Wes gave him a sharp look. "Get serious, Wedge. It's the reason I arranged this so-called 'joke.' I want her to relax more. And yes," he added before Wedge could, "because I'm in love with her." He looked off into space. "Do you think she will?" 

"Can X-wings fly?" Wedge asked rhetorically. "There's always a possibility, Wes. Besides, we're both former Rogues, right? Impossible doesn't exist in our vocabulary." 

The restaurant was elegant, and the lighting dim and romantic. She glanced at Wes, who was reading his menu. He caught her glance and smiled wryly. "See anything you like?" he inquired. 

"The bruised brualki sounds good," she told him. "Maybe followed by something else. I'm not sure yet." 

He nodded. "I'm not sure myself," he admitted. "The smoked nerf sounds good, but so do the ribs." She smiled, and they both returned to their menus. Her emotions were in turmoil. _What's wrong with you? The restaurant's great, the food is supposed to delicious, and the company is certainly welcome. So why are you nervous?_

The waiter stepped up to their table and they ordered drinks and dinner. He took their menus away, leaving Wes and Jenna alone. "So, how do you like the restaurant so far?" he asked. 

"Wonderful," she replied, "but I can't really judge it until I've eaten." 

He chuckled. "True enough," he admitted. They fell silent. Jenna stared off into space, obviously thinking about something. Wes found he couldn't keep his eyes off her. He admired everything about her: the long, sun-blond hair swept up into a chignon, the green, feline eyes as unreadable as a cat's, her long, lithe form, the blue-green dress she wore that clung to her body, her perfect, tan skin . . . "Jenna," he asked suddenly, "you didn't report Face's crazy idea about Isard being alive to General Cracken, did you?" 

"No," she said puzzled. "It was too weird, and not part of the discussion to be reported." 

"Oh." He went back to admiring her, which she somehow managed to ignore or not pick up on it. He wondered how she could manage either trick. 

Jenna, for her part, thought she was being paranoid when she caught Wes staring at her. _Come on, he can't be . . . admiring me, can he? No. Not Janson._ Her thoughts moved to analysis of Zsinj's recently accomplished battles, and tried to predict where he would attack next. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Janson. She wondered how this dark-haired, prankster man could have been the object of all this emotional upheaval. True, he was not unattractive; his eyes were a stormy blue-grey that seemed to smile all the time, he was slender, and he always had a joke ready, whether you were sad or annoyed. Still . . . 

"Jenna," he breathed. Startled out of her thoughts, she stared at him, "I—" At that moment, their orders arrived with the waiter. A plate of bruised brualki was placed before Jenna, while Wes got his smoked nerf. When the waiter left, Jenna turned back to Wes. 

"You were saying?" she reminded him. 

"I—" He looked away. "Maybe I shouldn't say this." 

"What?" She frowned, then, with intuition born of the Force, she turned surprised eyes on him. "You love me, was that what you were going to say?" Miserably, he nodded. "Wes," she said, her face softening, "I love you, too." 

She pushed aside their plates. She leaned slightly forward. Wes leaned forward as well, lightly touching her lips with his. He felt her push harder, felt the passion with which she cared for him. He felt as happy as he had ever been, as satisfied with life and relieved. It was as sweet a kiss as ever, and both felt as if something special was in the air.

"Freeze!" 

Jenna immediately broke away, and was about to go for her blaster when she saw Wedge and the Wraiths in silly uniforms. At least, they looked like uniforms. Coolly, she said, "What is this all about?" 

"We're the party police," Wedge said sternly, "and we decided you're breaking Party Law Number One." 

"Which is?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"To have fun and not to be serious, of course," Wedge told her in simulated surprise. 

"We've been assigned to teach you how to have fun," added Tyria Sarkin. 

A brief smile flashed across her face. "You set me up," she said to Wes. 

He made a helpless gesture. "I had nothing to do with this," he said, putting on his best hurt/innocent expression. 

She turned back to the Wraiths. "Who exactly gave you this assignment?" she asked. 

The Wraiths looked at one another. "Why, the Commander, of course!" said Kell. 

"I see." She turned her back on the Wraiths. "As a matter of fact, I was having fun until you party poopers in here and ruined my evening. Now, you can report back to your commander and tell him the mission was a failure." 

Wedge sighed. "All right, all right, Jenna, it's us, the Wraiths, okay?" 

"I don't know any 'Wraiths,'" she said, with the best 'innocent' expression Wes had ever seen on anybody's face. "As a matter of fact, you're trying to disturb my dinner, and that's harassment. I'm calling the military police. Then we'll see what you have to say about ruining people's peace and quiet, vagrant." 

Wedge gestured at Jenna as she stood up and disappeared into the rest of the restaurant. "Come on, Wes, help us out here." 

Wes fought to keep the amusement out of his face. "Sorry, don't know you," he said. 

"Wes!" Wedge said, bewildered, as two officers of the New Republic Military Police who had been dining in the restaurant and had overheard Jenna's conversation with the manager approached. They quickly pulled their blasters out and aimed them at the Wraiths. 

"All right, nice and easy," one of them growled. "We've called in to Central and there's a hovercar waiting for you outside. Come on, move it." 

"Wait, officer, this is a mistake . . ." Wedge's voice faded as the Wraiths were led away. 

Jenna reappeared at that moment. "Are they gone?" she asked. 

"Yes," he answered, bemused. 

"Good." She looked at him. "I know you arranged all that, don't try to deny it. Still, I didn't want anything to ruin our entire evening. That was the only way I could think of getting rid of them." 

Wes stared at her. "Remind me never to make you angry." 

She took his hand and kissed it. "You never will, love, at least not more than once." 

They ate their dinner with gusto, finishing off with rich desserts. As Wes flew her back, he said ruefully, "Wedge is going to be angry tomorrow. You've marked me as a dead man." 

She shook her head. "Wedge is an honorable and fair man." 

He grimaced. "Then you didn't hear about some of the tricks he pulled on me." 

She smiled as he put down the landspeeder in the hangar. "Don't worry; I'll appease him." She suddenly grabbed his face and pulled it down. She kissed him passionately. He melted into her arms, marveling at the fact that he felt so happy with this woman of mysterious past. 

They finally broke apart, gasping slightly for breath. Wes's face reddened when he saw the cheering techs, but Jenna merely smiled nonchalantly, uttered a husky "goodbye," and was gone before he knew it. "Goodbye, Jenna," he whispered, haunted by the memory of her kisses and her beauty. 

Wedge sighed tiredly as he entered his quarters after a night of convincing the police that what happened was a joke, and to have Admiral Ackbar vouch for them after giving them parole for two months. He noticed the package on his bed. He took it, opened it, and was surprised to find a couple of Corellian-designed "candles," sculptures that were very valuable and ethereally beautiful. A datapad tumbled out. 

"To Commander Antilles," he read aloud, "apologies for the inconvenience. The lieutenant shouldn't have pulled this trick on you. For that, as well, I apologize. Sorry I couldn't be there in person for you to wring my neck. Wes says you are a vengeful person. You don't strike me as such, but when it comes to Wes, I understand why." 

Wedge smiled before continuing. "Compensation has been sent to all pilots involved in last night's fiasco. Hope they like their gifts! At any rate, you must know by now that I'm involved with Wes. Whatever you do, please leave enough of him for me to help him get back to normal (in other words, please keep him alive). I love him very much, and I've lost all my friends and family to the Empire. I don't want to lose anyone I care about anymore. "So now I'll stop rambling and you can get some sleep. See you around! Jenna" 


End file.
